


Brady's Loss

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Big Brother Dean, Brady is a douche, F/M, Law Student Sam, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Minor Dean/Tessa, Minor Tyson Brady/Sam Winchester, Multi, Nurse Meg, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:12:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Tyson Brady is a cad and a louse. And everyone knows but Sam, who tries not to see it. When he finally has the truth shoved at him, he's heartbroken. Enter sarcastic, jaded Meg and stoned artist Castiel, who think Sam could benefit from some real love. One man's loss becomes a couple's pleasure.





	1. One is the Loneliest Number

**Author's Note:**

> A Nonny Mouse prompt.

Dean hadn't known Brady back in the good days. All he knew was the complete douchenozzle Sam brought to Jo’s parties now that the brothers had reconnected after two years apart. Sam was a terrible judge of character, and he always seemed to find good in people even when they were basically demonic, so his brother shouldn't have been surprised that the guy was a jerk. But he and Sam were just back in one another's lives again, and Dean didn't want to screw that up by pointing out that the boyfriend had a constant smirk on his face that made Dean want to stab it. Jo called him the BFFH, the Boyfriend from Hell.

But Sam was in love with the guy, and Dean wasn't in the habit of biting his tongue but he was learning how. He wasn't going to lie and pretend he liked him. But he did keep trying to figure out what Sam saw. Unfortunately, he kept seeing things Sam didn't see. And that was how he had ended up in his present horrific situation.

“Man, please, just listen-”

Sam's face was red, and Dean could tell he was exercising all his restraint to not hit him. “No. No, you're lying. I don't know why you're doing this, but you're lying to me. You're the same old Dean, you know that?”

It hit him in the chest hard. “No, Sammy, man, I'm-”

“Yeah, you are. You're the same guy you were when you went into the system. In fact, you're worse. Before you went in, you were just a hothead and a drunk. Now you're malicious. I don't know why you want to turn me against the most important person in my life, but it stops now.”

Dean ground his teeth to calm his anger, but didn't succeed in hiding his hurt. “You think I spent two years in prison thinking up ways to screw up your life? Because you didn't read my letters well enough if that's the case. I spent all my time in there thinking I gotta make this up to Sam. When I get out of here, it's going to be all about earning Sam's forgiveness and respect. So if you don't think I hate this as much as you, you're dead wrong. But I'm your brother. And the guy who is supposed to be your boyfriend is chasing other guys behind your back, and I can't just pretend I don't know it.”

His brother had grown an unbelievable amount while they were separated, had probably three inches on Dean now. But when he looked down at him with eyes rimmed in red, all he could see was that kid who always felt everything so much deeper than anyone else, the one who had taken care of every stray dog in every town they were ever in, the one who stood up for the nerd kids at school, the one whose heart broke entirely when his hero was convicted of assault and battery after a drunken tussle that went too far.

“Sam, I'm so sorry.” He tried to put his hand on his arm.

But Sam pulled out of his reach angrily. “No! It's just another way you're trying to control my life. Just like always. I thought you could handle being around, could handle that I'm an adult and I don't need you anymore.”

Dean flinched.

“I thought we could just be friends. But that's clearly not going to work.”

He threw his hands up in frustration. “Why? Because I noticed your boyfriend is an asshole? Dude, he hit on me the first time we met!”

At last, Sam's eyes lowered, and he took a step back, rounding at the shoulders. “That-that was a misunderstanding. You misunderstood.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. But then he's played around with every guy on his radar every time I've seen him since! And last night, I'm telling you, Guy, the one who looks like the dude from Hamilton, when he got out of the back of that car with Brady-”

“No,” Sam snapped again. “No, you know why? Because if you had really seen that, you know what you'd have done? You'd have flipped out and punched him.”

He glowered up at his giant kid brother. “You don't think I wanted to? Assaulting a freaking med student, that's going to make my second conviction even more enjoyable than the first one. So my choices are to beat the shit out of the piece of shit that's going behind my brother's back, or hope that my brother trusts me enough to know when I'm looking out for him.”

Sam shook his head, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes. “No. You're lying. And I want you gone.”

“Sammy-”

“Now.” The hazel eyes had closed against tears.

Dean ground his teeth for a moment, then turned toward the door to Sam's apartment. Then he turned back to see his brother breathing too shallowly. It made his heart ache. “Sammy, I'm gonna go. You're right; you're an adult. But I'm your brother. And when he hurts you, you come to me, and I'll be there for you. You got more heart than any three other people combined. You deserve someone who can love you right. That ain't him. He ain't enough. Call me when you need me.”

With that, he left his brother standing alone with his stubborn, loyal heart, and forced himself to walk out of the building, even when his own stubborn, loyal heart told him he was going the wrong way.

***

Dean was lying. Sam knew it. Dean lied. That's what he did. If he could have done it professionally, he would have. Instead, he was a car mechanic with a class five felony conviction on his record.

On the other hand, Tyson Brady was a medical student Sam had loved desperately for two years. Sam had dated Jess for most of undergrad, and losing her to the fire would haunt him the rest of his days. But Brady had been there to pick up the pieces, unlike Dean. Sam had leaned on him hard, and then had fallen hard. It was his first real relationship with a man, and he had let Brady take the lead for so long that it had become habit to let him call the shots. It was a comfort in some ways.

Brady had been there when Dean hadn't. That by itself meant Brady deserved the benefit of his doubt. And Dean didn't. Dean lied. Nobody knew that better than the guy who had grown up worshipping him.

“You almost ready?”

Sam looked up and smiled. “Yeah. You?”

Brady shrugged. “Always. But I'm surprised you're not staying in tonight. You were talking all week about needing more quiet study time.”

He nodded and chewed on his lip. “I don't know. I want to do what you want.” It sounded more pathetic spoken than it had in his head.

He reached up to put his hand in Sam's hair, and sighed as Sam closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “Sam, you do what you need to do. I can go to this thing by myself. I went to Jo’s place on my own yesterday.”

The man frowned a little, and looked up again. “Did you? I mean...you could have called up one of the guys. Or-or Guy. He'd have gone.”

Brady shrugged and straightened his jacket.

Sam felt the absence of his hand keenly. “You could call him up tonight. For company.”

“Does that mean you're staying in?”

He swallowed through a lump in his throat. “Yeah, if you really don't mind. I have a lot to get done.”

“Okay. Just be here when I get home, and we’ll call it even.”

“Of course,” Sam murmured. “Ty, I love you.”

Brady smiled at him, and leaned in to kiss him gently. “I know you do. Don't study all night, okay?” He began toward his car keys on the wall.

“Ty?”

His lover turned back to him. “Yeah?”

Sam took a breath. “You won't be lonely?”

Brady gave him a confused look. “Lonely? I'll be with a bunch of friends. I'll be fine. And I've got you sitting here at home waiting for me. How could I be lonely?”

It took two hours, but finally Sam couldn't stand it anymore. He was making himself crazy, and he wasn't going to get any real studying done like this anyway. So he made his way to the party.

They were mostly Brady’s friends, and a few friends of friends. Sam knew most of them, but had never truly felt any connection with any of them. For one thing, he was always dragged into a repetitive debate about bisexuality. He got the impression that a lot of Brady's gay friends didn't like the fact that Sam had dated women in the past, and that irritated him. There was also a lot of drama and casual sex among this group, and Sam wasn't sure what to feel about that either.

And with Dean's warnings ringing mercilessly in his head, he couldn't help just wanting to see for himself that everything was all right.

Brady was nowhere to be found, but two of his friends greeted Sam and pulled him in for drinks. Mick and Art were arrogant, and they both made Sam a little exasperated. Their British accents made everyone else swoon, but Sam didn't care much for the way they always thought they had the answer to everything, and how they seemed to think Americans in general were stupid brutes. It was no wonder, then, that Sam tended to drink more when they were the ones pouring.

He was already tipsy by the time he had managed to slip away from the Brits, and then he felt himself go light-headed after accepting two shots offered by a guy whose name Sam could never remember, who was listed in his mental contacts list as Pest.

“Hey, Sam. You're looking healthy!”

He cringed. This guy was so weird. And he was missing two fingers on his right hand, which no one ever talked about. “Yeah. Thanks. Hey, have you seen Brady?”

“Brady? Uh, is Brady here?”

Sam frowned as Pest looked around the room guiltily. “Yeah. I mean, I thought so.”

“I don't know. He's not-I don't see him. Hey, there's my boyfriend over there eating everything on the buffet table. A wonder he stays so thin, right? Okay, I gotta go.”

Sam took hold of his arm. “Is there anything I should know?”

Pest cleared his throat, which was more disgusting than it should have been. “I haven't seen him,” he muttered. Then he smiled crookedly. “Have you seen the musical Hamilton?”

“No, I haven't seen Hamilton,” he sighed.

“Neither have I. Not in the last hour,” Pest said with a rueful smirk. “I'll see you around, Sam.”

Sam's heart was pounding in his chest. He followed Pest’s glance at the stairs before heading for the buffet table. Sam desperately hoped he was too drunk to have interpreted that message correctly.

He ascended the stairs one by one. It was Mick’s place, a far too expensive house with far too many loud parties taking place there, and far too many rendezvous spots for hooking up in. There were men, and occasionally women, all over the stairs and in the open spaces.

There was one couple, a rare man and woman combination, on top of a pool table, sharing a joint between them peacefully. The woman grinned at Sam. “Hey. You lost?”

“I'm looking for someone.”

“But is that someone looking out for you?” the man muttered up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“He better be,” Sam snapped.

The woman burst into laughter. “Wow! Sounds like somebody's in trouble,” she sang out.

“No, I'm sure it's fine,” Sam replied, trying to calm himself.

“You're not sure,” the man corrected quietly. “Sure is an absolute. It's certain. But you're not. If you're not certain it's fine, it may not be, so you're not sure.”

Being drunk was one thing. But sucking grass seemed to make people idiots. Sam shook his head at them. “I'm sure,” he repeated.

“Good luck, kid,” the woman laughed.

He moved on through the maze of a party, until he found what he wasn't looking for.

Inside a bedroom which wasn't even closed entirely, let alone locked, was Tyson Brady leaning on a wall for support, with his pants around his ankles, and the Guy who looked like the dude from Hamilton kneeling in front of him, attached at the mouth. Brady's eyes were falling closed, his hand resting on Guy's neck, shoving himself into his warm mouth with bliss. As Sam watched, he grinned up at the ceiling, held Guy hard against him, and let out a deep groan, which covered the other man's coughing.

Sam whimpered once from the doorway.

Brady's eyes shot open. “Sam!”

Guy sat back hard, and sprawled on the floor. “What?”

Sam stared as Brady quickly pulled his pants on and zipped up, without a glance or word to Guy.

“Sam, baby, wait. This isn't-”

He shook his head, and backed away from his approach. “Don't touch me,” he hissed. “And don't call me that.”

“Sam, you need to hear me out. Okay? You don't want to jump to conclusions!”

No, he didn't want that. He wanted to jump into a river. He wanted to jump into a pit somewhere, to be swallowed up by the earth, never to be seen again. But no pit appeared, so Sam had to say something. “What else can I conclude?” he murmured hoarsely. “You just finished in Guy's mouth. You want time to spin that?”

“You've been so busy lately, Sam, and-”

He blinked. “And? And you're in med school! My law classes are the same! Are you suggesting you can't get what you need from me, so you have to go to him? Him?”

“Hey!” Guy barked.

Brady ignored him. “Baby, stop. Listen. This means nothing, okay? What we have is so much-”

“What we have is over,” Sam stated, and his voice caught in a sob with the last word. He began to back out of the room.

“Sam! Don't do that! Don't you dare.” Brady's eyes flashed with fury. “Sam! You'll never make it without me! I picked you up from your lowest, and I'm the one that's kept you together all this time! You walk out now, and you're going to fall apart. You'll be as much of a mess as you were before me.”

A sick feeling was churning in his stomach. He realized belatedly that his tears were already streaming down his cheeks. “That's how you see me? Just a mess?”

Brady seemed to think he was gaining ground, so he stepped closer and lowered his voice into a purr. “Oh, Sam. Baby, it's all right. But you need me. Okay? And me getting off now and then with someone else doesn't mean I'm not going to be there for you when you get overwhelmed. Right? I mean, this isn't any big deal, right? We're stronger than this. What we have is above this. You know?”

Sam flinched away from his hand. “Don't touch me,” he said again, slower and more forcefully. “You went behind my back. You lied. And you're trying to manipulate me. The bitch you were using a moment ago is still sitting on the floor because he's too drunk to get up, and too stupid to know you're just using him, and you've said a hundred times you think he's a stupid bitch.”

“What?”

Brady ground his teeth. “Sam-”

“Don't touch me!” he warned again as the hand approached. Then he gathered the last of his strength and stormed from the room. He was trembling head to toe, and blinded by his tears, and it was lucky for him that a strong hand took hold of his arm and on the other side, an arm took him about the waist, to lead him down the stairs. Without them, he surely would have tumbled down them instead.

It wasn't until they hit the cool fresh air that he could see enough to determine who his angels were.

It was the couple from the pool table.

The woman was looking him over. “It's cool, kid. I'm a nurse. Just want to see that you're not going to die of alcohol poisoning right in front of me.”

Sam blinked at the man. “I'm fine.”

He smirked and began to chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you say that a lot. Because you definitely aren't.”

He stumbled backward until he found himself sitting hard in the grass. “Leave me alone.”

“Look, kid. I'm Meg. He's Cas. And we saw what your boyfriend just did to you. Brady's a douche. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

The trembling intensified. “I've loved him so long. Maybe...maybe I should give him another-”

“No.” Meg sat on her heels beside him. “No. You know why? Because he's never deserved you.”

He stared at her. “You don't know me.”

“We know Brady,” Cas said simply. “He doesn't deserve anybody. Especially someone as lovely as you.”

Meg smiled a little, but continued. “You're a good guy, Sam. That's obvious. And you're hot.”

“Really hot,” Cas offered.

“If Brady can't see what he's losing, he's a complete moron.”

“Really, very hot,” Cas continued to himself. “Maybe the hottest guy I've ever seen in person.”

Sam turned his stare to him. He was drunk and hurt and angry. But now that he was actually looking at this couple, he realized that under any other circumstances, he would find them very attractive.

“Sam, listen. You live with Brady?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, no, technically he has his own apartment. But he's moved in with me for the most part.” That sick feeling washed over him again. “God, everything in my apartment...Our bed! I can't...I can't sleep there…”

Meg and Cas shared a glance that seemed to decide something. Meg shrugged. “Then don't. Look, we got a guest room. Brady's going to smooth things over with his side dish, because he might want to use him again one day. But then, he's going to go looking for you.”

Sam closed his eyes. “I can't...I don't want to look at him right now. And it hurts so bad...Brady talks, and it's like everything he says, if anybody else were saying it...but because it's him, it all sounds plausible, sounds forgivable...God, he hit on my brother before I introduced them, and when Dean told me, and I asked Ty about it, he looked me right in the eyes and lied, and I listened. God, I don't want to see him tonight.” He choked on a sob. “He’ll convince me this is somehow my fault, and I'll...I'll end up apologizing and…” He blinked uselessly against the shame filling his gut. “And I'll end up right where the Hamilton Guy was when I walked in. Because Ty can convince me I did something wrong here. That I deserved this, that I brought it on somehow. And I'll be the one trying to make it up to him, when he's…”

Cas lowered himself to touch Sam's arm gently.

“I loved him too long for him to do this to me,” he rasped. “I'm good to him. I give him everything. God, I kicked my brother out when he tried to warn me...But he's going to start talking, and I won't be able to...It'll be my fault. I know it will.” He looked up at Cas with pleading red eyes. “Please. I can't go home tonight. If I do, I'll listen to him, and it'll be my fault. And I'll just want to die.”

The couple was helping him up now, and leading him toward the cars. “Give me your keys,” Meg said. “Cas, you good to drive?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I'll follow you.”

Before Sam realized what was happening, he had been helped into the passenger seat of an old Cadillac, and he could see that they were following Sam's own vehicle. “Where are we going?” he asked numbly.

“Our house. Just relax, Sam. When Meg gets it into her head that she's going to take charge, the best thing to do is sit back and go with it. You'll always be glad you did.”

“Are you stoned?”

He laughed. “Generally. But I'm good. We're already here.”

Sam looked up to see Meg pulling into a driveway of an old house. “You can afford to live on Mick’s street?”

“Funny, isn't it?” He got out of the car, and hurried around to help Sam out too, taking just a moment to look at him. “God, Brady does not deserve you,” he mumbled to himself.

He let himself be led into the house, where Meg was waiting. Once inside, Sam could see that the decor was simple and unassuming but elegant in a way he hadn't expected. He stared up at a painting above the fireplace, full of vibrant, abstract colors, inspiring euphoria. “That's incredible,” he breathed.

Cas smiled with pleasure, and closed his eyes briefly. “Meg, I like him.”

She snorted. “Sam, that's Castiel's work.”

“Who’s Castiel?”

His hostess filled the room with laughter now, and Sam found that he liked it. “Cas. Castiel. It's what Cas is short for.”

His face pinkened. “Oh. Sorry.”

Castiel stepped toward him then. “Sam, you deserve so much better than Brady. So much more than he can give you.”

Sam's broken heart was pounding. He was beginning to sober a little, but it still felt like everything was a dream. His world was upside down, through the looking glass. He looked into bright blue eyes, and had to remind himself to blink. “I'm not…” He shook his head to clear it. “If I had been what he needed, he wouldn't have had to find it somewhere else. Now and then, he said. That means it isn't the first time, and not just Guy. Others too. Because I wasn't enough for him.”

Meg raised her eyebrow, drawing Sam's attention. Her features were dark and sultry, contrasting Castiel's brightness. She smirked, as he watched. She moved like a dancer. He moved like a soldier. She seemed to find everything funny, and he seemed to find everything intriguing. They were contradictions and complements at the same time.

Sam sighed suddenly. “Not like you two. You two seem like the perfect match. I'll never have what you two have. I'm done. With all of it. My first love was a woman who burned to death in a fire. My second is a man I can't satisfy. I just-I'm done. Aren't I?”

“The third time is always the charm,” Meg whispered. “Three is the best way to love.”

He was still drunk enough to find that bewildering. He shrugged his confusion.

Castiel smiled gently, and put a hand on Sam's face, smoothing his stray hair from his eyes. The touch was so wonderfully cool and light that Sam actually sighed. “Sam, this is a horrible night for you. And you don't know us. So if you want to just crash in the guest room, you can do that. But we've got a suggestion for taking your mind completely off everything that's happened to you.”

He shook his head. “I don't smoke.”

Meg laughed at her partner's head tilt. “Sam, he's not talking about smoking. It would serve Brady right if you were to give him a taste of what he's been doing to you.”

Hurt and anger flared in his heart. “He knows he's got nothing to worry about. I've been stupidly in love with him for so long, I haven't looked at anyone else in years. And who would want me anyway? I'm not exactly the kind of guy someone takes home.”

Meg’s smile was wicked now. “Sam, we took you home.”

He looked at her oddly. “Yeah, but…”

Castiel was running fingertips up his arm. “We want you.”

“You...Why?”

It wasn't a rejection, and Sam realized it as he watched his hosts share a grin. Meg took hold of Sam's hand, and placed it on her hip. “Why? Because you're beautiful and nobody needs to be taken care of more than a guy who just watched his boyfriend get off without him. Let us take care of you.”

“When was the last time someone took care of you, Sam? Because I'm willing to bet Brady doesn't worry about it unless it suits him.”

Shame washed hot over his skin, but there was something else there too, and Sam couldn't pretend it wasn't desire. “You two are some kind of predatory team?”

Meg’s laugh was breathtaking. “That's awesome,” she told her partner. “I love that.”

“We’ll have tee shirts made,” Castiel teased wryly. “But in the meantime...can I kiss you?”

His hand on Meg trembled slightly, but he nodded. “God, yes.” He wanted this. Screw Brady. Screw Brady's side dishes, as Meg called them. Screw waiting at home for the man to wander back in, smelling like someone else's cologne. Screw trying with all his heart not to know what he didn't want to know. Screw that. He wanted this. No more aching for Brady to touch him, refusing to believe he was getting off somewhere else before coming home. No more lying in bed alone. No more lying.

Castiel's lips pressed against his, and he whimpered, making the artist smile into the kiss. At the same time, Meg's hands managed to work their way onto Sam's chest, and her purr of approval made him want to hold her tight against him. He settled for tightening his grip about her waist.

Screw Brady. Let him have his side dish. Sam was going to enjoy the buffet.


	2. Two Can Be as Bad as One

Meg was still passed out in bed when Sam crept out to use the bathroom. She snored at him, and he smiled down at her. She was incredible. Athletic, beautiful, funny, and a little dark, she was everything he had never realized he wanted. Her confidence was intoxicating, her sexual appetite inspiring, and her sense of humor as cutting as Sam's own.

He used the bathroom, lazily staring at himself in the mirror. Last night had been an adventure. He'd never been part of a threesome before, and frankly hadn't ever been able to figure out how it would really work. But he hadn't had to figure anything out last night. When Meg and Castiel promised to take care of someone, they clearly meant it. He had never felt so good, so much. He had often been the partner who gave more, so it was intimidating to find himself to be the center of attention for two gorgeous, ravenous lovers who seemed to read one another's minds.

Sam had let go with these two like he had never done with anyone before. Maybe that was just because he suddenly had nothing to lose. But the result was amazing. And he couldn't help a bitter smile as he thought aloud, “Brady never felt that good.”

Castiel had been gone from the bed when Sam awoke, so he slipped out of the master bedroom to find him. Two cats watched him from their perch on the mantle, below the painting which had caught Sam's eye the night before.

The night before. Before he had surrendered into able, strong hands, into warm embraces and laughter, into praise that made him weak.

“You're awake.”

Sam's eyes had fluttered closed, but now they shot open. “Y-yes. I mean, yeah. Hi.”

Castiel smiled at him. “You're beautiful, Sam. I hope you know that.”

He could feel the blush creeping up his throat. “No, I'm...Thank you. I'm not. But thank you.” Just the proximity to this man was making his body react with want, making his skin itch to be touched.

The artist narrowed his eyes to watch him. “You don't think you deserve things like that. You're not used to hearing that you're beautiful.”

His face felt hot, and he knew it was splotched with ugly red. “Not-not the way you say it,” he admitted hoarsely.

“How do I say it?”

Sam found himself staring back at those unblinking blue eyes. “Like maybe you mean it,” he mumbled without meaning to.

Castiel's face broke into a soft, sad smile. “I mean it because it's true. You are beautiful. And I'm sorry you aren't told that enough.”

Pain struck his heart, and made him cringe. It was another stab at Brady, at things Brady had never made him feel. His gaze dropped. “God. Brady will probably be back at the apartment.”

“Will you be all right?”

He tried to smile. “I'm fine.”

But it sounded hollow, and Castiel raised a dark brow. “You're not fine. But you will be. Look. This is our number.” He reached into a small writing desk and produced a pen and a scrap of paper. “If Brady won't leave you alone, or if you need some company, let us know.”

Sam nodded awkwardly, and took the paper. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks-thanks for last night. You know? I mean-” He lowered his eyes beneath his hair. “I mean, obviously the sex was-was great. Seriously great. But I mean, thank you for getting me out of there, and for letting me stay the night. If I'd gone home, or if Ty had caught up with me before I left...I might've taken him back, let him convince me I didn't see what I definitely saw. Let him tell me why it's my fault.”

Castiel approached and put his hand on Sam's face, brushing away his hair like he had done the night before. “It isn't,” he assured him. “Meg went to highschool with Brady. She says he's got a silver tongue.”

“He does,” Sam agreed. “And for two years, I let him use it on me, like an idiot. He could justify anything, could wrap me up around his little finger, and I never saw it. I see it now, and I still know he could talk his way back into my bed if I listened for even a minute.”

“So don't listen,” Castiel advised. “Listen to me instead. You're beautiful, and you deserve better.”

He sighed. “I'm going to go. Just please tell Meg I...” He laughed and shrugged helplessly, and was mortified to feel a sob encroaching on his words. “Just tell her I needed that. I've never-I don't know what to say except that I really needed it.”

“I'll tell her.”

Sam was dressed in yesterday's clothes, but somehow he felt cleaner than he had in years. He shoved his hands in his pockets on the way to his car, and decided he would worry about analyzing that feeling later.

***

Dean wiped his hands on a rag, and emerged from under a hood. “Dude, you need a new car.”

The customer sighed. “I like this one.”

“Because you're a pimp?”

Blue eyes glowered at him. “It has character.”

“Yeah, so do a lot of cars, and some of them don't leave you sitting on the side of the road. Look, Cas, I enjoy our weekly chats about life, the universe and weed, but eventually you're going to need to face the fact that the pimpmobile is always ten miles away from giving up the ghost.”

“And that's why I come to you,” Castiel argued. “Because you're the only mechanic who hasn't given up on her. You always put her back together.”

“She's a disaster, man. Look at the black Chevy over there. That's my Baby. She cries every time she hears this thing rattle into the garage.”

Castiel smiled a little. “Not all of us are as beautiful as that Impala. Doesn't mean we should be given up on.”

“Not given up on, Cas. Given mercy. This car don't owe you a thing. She's mostly held together with duct tape and safety pins. You've spent more money keeping her going in the last six months I've worked here than you would have if you had just bought a new one and sold her for-”

“Don't!” Castiel closed his eyes. “Don't. Don't say it. Sold for parts, don't even think it.”

Dean shrugged and snickered. “That's all right. I don't think you could get much for them anyway.”

“It isn't about the money, Dean. It's about family.”

He gave his friend a softer smile, and smacked his arm. “Yeah, okay. I can't argue with that. Come on in, and I'll draw up some paperwork.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dean had closed the shop for the evening, and he and Castiel were sitting in the back smoking quietly. It was always nice to see Castiel walking into the shop, and as much as Dean tried to convince him the old car was finished, he was glad when Castiel refused to believe it, because that meant the guy would be back soon. Dean had thought many times that if he had known Castiel years ago, maybe he would have been stoned more than drunk and could have avoided the stupid mistakes he had made. Lounging on the beat up couches in the back of the garage, smoking and talking about nothing and everything, was far better than drinking and brawling like before, or drinking alone like he wanted to most nights now.

“When you see something so beautiful it makes your heart hurt.”

He looked up. He couldn't tell if he had zoned out or if his buddy were doing that thing he sometimes did where he started vocalizing in the middle of a thought. “What? Whole sentences, dude,” he chided.

“That isn't one.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. I was just saying, have you ever seen something so beautiful you feel it on the inside?”

“I don't know. Seeing my Baby again after two years in lock up kinda punched me in the chest.”

Castiel stabbed at the ceiling with his finger. “Yes. That.”

“That what?” Dean couldn't see what he was pointing at.

“That punch in the chest. I had that last night.”

Dean sat up a little. “Somebody hit you?”

“Right in the heart. And he's definitely good looking, but that's not all it is, you know?”

“Oh. A guy. I thought you were with Meg.”

Castiel began to laugh. “I'm always with Meg. That will never change. But part of what I love about her is that she can appreciate beauty too.”

Dean thought on that for a moment. “So...you had a threesome last night. That what you're trying to say?”

“You don't use enough prepositions.”

“What?”

“He's probably the most stunning man I ever saw. And his boyfriend is a complete assbutt.”

“Ass-That's not a thing.”

Castiel ignored this. “This guy is so good you can see it a mile off. You know? Have you ever known a guy you could tell in the first minute is just good?”

“I guess. My kid brother is like that. He's all sarcastic, and bitchy, but you know in a glance he's a better man than anybody else in the room.” He snorted. “And he's dating a jackass too.”

“Assbutt.”

“No.”

“This man deserves so much more than that guy can give him.”

Dean nodded, and went back to staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he sighed. “But he don't know it.”

“And you can tell him, but he's not going to hear it.”

“Always assumes the folks who care about him are wrong, and gives his heart to the ones who are too stupid to see how good he is.”

Castiel licked at his lips. “He's exactly what Meg and I have always wanted.”

Dean refocused on his buddy's speech. “Meg...So you're going to make this a thing? Like, a recurring thing?”

A wistful sigh was his answer. “Probably not,” Castiel admitted. “He's probably going to let his snake boyfriend worm his way back in.” Then he burst into laughter. “God, so many...snake, worm, forked fucking tongue.”

“My kid brother is dating a snake. Tried to tell him the other day, and he kicked me out.”

“You know what I enjoy?”

“Smoking pot.”

Castiel giggled breathlessly. “Yeah. And absinthe. But I meant about this guy? You'll hate it, but I think it's adorable.”

“What?”

“He thinks my car is a Cadillac.”

Dean twisted up his face at that. “The Pimpmobile? Dude, it's a freaking Continental. What idiot can't see that?”

“He was very drunk when he got in it. Probably doesn't even remember what he said. But he started muttering about how finding himself being driven away from a party in some guy’s Cadillac was not how he had seen the night going.”

His friend snorted. “He'd be especially surprised if he knew he was in a crappy beige Lincoln.”

“It's jubilee gold. I like it.”

“Whatever. If Meg's cool with this guy, you two should adopt him. Wish someone would do that with my kid brother. He needs somebody who will get him away from this snake and give him the life he deserves.”

They were both quiet for a time, lost in their own thoughts. Castiel giggled a little occasionally, and Dean sighed a lot.

Finally, the mechanic spoke up again. “Think it's possible it could work like that?”

Castiel had completely lost track of the conversation. “Whole sentences, Dean,” he teased.

“That was a whole sentence.”

“Then add prepositions or something. What's possible?”

“You and Meg, and a guy. Think that ever works? Like, long-term? I'm not talking about a wild night or two, or cheating behind somebody's back. I mean really work. You think?”

“I'm not sure I know what you're asking me. You mean do I think a set of three can work as well as a pair? Yeah. Definitely. I mean, not usually. But Meg and I…”

“You ain't usual,” Dean provided.

“Not usually, no.” He smiled at his friend. “Have you ever known anyone who you could tell in an instant needs more love than one person can give him? And not only that, he really deserves more?”

He turned back to the ceiling. “Maybe. My kid brother is kind of like that. He just...I don't know, feels more, you know? My whole life, I always felt like no matter what I did, I was falling behind. Like I could never give him the attention and time and energy he needed. And he never complained. Don't get me wrong. He'd never complain. But sometimes I could see it in his eyes that I'd never be enough. Kid didn't have a mom, died when he was a baby, and no dad to speak of. Dad came when he could, but for the most part, we were on our own. And I tried, I did, but I was a kid too, you know?” He frowned. “Not a real kid, maybe. But I tried to do what he needed, and I always fell short. Maybe if he'd had Mom and Dad, or a better big brother...Anyway, it's too late for all that. He's with that son of a bitch who's gonna break his damn heart, and there ain't nothing I can do without pushing him away further.”

“Your mellow is failing.”

Dean snorted again. “Sorry. Can't stop worrying about him. He's just the only family I got.”

“Except your car.”

A slow smile came over his face. “Yes, Cas, I'll keep fixing the Pimpmobile, till she can't be fixed anymore.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Okay, buddy.”


	3. There's Something to Be Said for One in the Bed

Sam stared at the black SUV in front of the apartment building for several minutes before he could make himself get out of his own vehicle. He had known Brady would be there. But now he had to actually encounter him.

Sam's car smelled a little like Meg’s cologne inside, and he liked that. He had turned on his radio out of habit and found metal blaring instead of his country rock, and that had made him laugh. In just a two minute drive from Mick’s to their place, Meg had managed to leave her mark. Sam found he didn't mind at all. He wanted some of her strength and confidence now, and he closed his eyes to pretend he could soak it in.

She had been amazing. He had seen the way she and Castiel had communicated between them while they took him apart and built him back better than before. Just a glance from one to the other changed the entire dynamic among them. He had been entirely blown away by their connection. They had trusted one another so completely, so deeply, that Sam couldn't help trusting them too. Even with a stranger between them, they had been in rhythm with one another in a way Sam knew he had never been with a lover before, and Sam had felt himself flow into the same melody in just his short time with them.

He opened his eyes and frowned.

It was with new determination that he headed into his apartment building to confront the man he had given himself to for years, the man who had thrown everything in his face and had the nerve to tell him he would be a mess without him.

Brady had been there when Sam had needed someone back then, and that was true. But it didn't give him the right to manipulate that past vulnerability. Maybe it had just been a single night, but for a few hours, he had felt truly wanted. He hadn't realized how badly he had needed to be wanted. And he had been a part of something real. He now knew what real felt like, and that wasn't Tyson Brady.

The man turned to him when he opened the door, with eyes swollen red, and Sam's breath came rushing out.

Brady had been crying.

Sam stumbled forward in shock. “Ty! Are-are you all right?” He couldn't help the flush of concern, the love that ached through him upon seeing his lover's distress. He had adored this man too long to turn it all off, he realized in an instant. His newfound righteousness gasped out of existence, and he felt guilt filling his heart instead. He had hurt Brady. This was all his fault. Jesus, he had hurt Brady. He had to make this better.

“Sam, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me.”

He couldn't take a full breath. “You...you're sorry?”

“I was drunk, Sam. It's never happened before, and I'll never let it happen again. Okay?”

“Drunk? Ty, don't...please don't blame this on being drunk.”

“I was, though. I don't even remember most of it. You can't hold something against me like that! I was just hanging out with Guy, and I guess I said something about how hard it's been with us both in grad school right now, that you're so busy, and the next thing I know, we're up in Mick’s spare room, and I guess things got out of hand. It was one mistake, Sam! Please.”

Hazel green eyes lowered from Brady's handsome face. “Just once?”

Brady reached for him, and took his hands. “Baby, I swear. Just once.”

Sam nodded, and refused to look up. “Just once. But you said now and then.” He was trembling all over, desperately trying to grab hold of some of the strength he had borrowed from Meg and Castiel before it was too late.

“What? No I didn't!”

“You did. Last night. You said just because you get off with someone else now and then-”

“I never said that. Baby, look. You were drunk, okay? I didn't say-”

Sam forced a deep breath in, and made himself meet Brady's eyes. “Yeah, Ty. You did. You're changing your story because that strategy didn't work with me. It-it's what you always do. You give your argument, however wittingly untrue or fallacious, and you test it out, then you move on if it's not getting you what you want. And you start out with your best personal gain. If you could convince me to accept that you getting off with someone else now and then was an acceptable term of our relationship, that sets the precedent that you can fuck someone else now and then.”

“Sam-”

“But,” he continued, in a quiet but strengthening voice, “when that wasn't feasible, you turn to the outside and intoxication influences, namely Guy hearing that I'm too busy for you, and alcohol, because if I agree with that, it means I accept fault, you aren't liable for your actions, and you're setting the precedent that you could potentially use alcohol and the fact that I'm getting my fucking degree as an excuse down the line. It also admits no past transgressions on your part.”

Brady was frowning now, and Sam could see the spark of anger. “Hold on.”

If he stopped now, he would lose his momentum, and Brady would eat him alive. He hurried forward. “You say you're sorry, and you say it was a mistake, but you don't actually acknowledge that any of it is your fault. And that means that listening to any of your arguments leaves me open to the same pattern of behavior, with no true recourse.”

Brady threw his hands up. “This isn't a fucking courtroom, Sam! This is us!”

“Us and another Guy!”

At last, Brady exploded into anger. “You want to talk about another guy? Let's talk about another guy!” he shouted. He glowered mercilessly up at Sam. “Because Lance saw you leave Mick’s last night with Cas Finis!”

It occurred to Sam at some level that it was the first time he had heard Castiel's last name. But most of his mind was settled on the accusation. “Who the hell is Lance?”

“The-the guy you called Pesti-Lance because he's a little skeevy, and he won't go away. It doesn't matter. Is it true? Did you really go home with freaking Cas Finis?”

Sam stared at him. “That's what this is,” he realized. “You aren't sorry about what you did. You're pissed that I rode off with Cas and his girlfriend.”

“Of course I'm pissed!” Brady raged. “The pothead and the metalhead? Freaking Megstiel? Seriously? That's who you picked to-to what? Teach me a lesson? You arrogant, vindictive bitch! After everything I've done for you! You owe me!”

Tears filled his eyes as Sam's image of the man he loved crumpled in a heap to reveal this monster that had been living inside him all this time. “I owe you?” It was barely a breath. His voice had completely abandoned him.

Brady shook his head. “You're an attention whore, you know that? You always have been. Drama just follows you everywhere. And you love it. Your mom dead, your dad a deadbeat, your brother a felon, your girlfriend dead. And I get one fucking blow from another guy, and you turn it into a war. You escalated everything; instead of working things out with me, you went and threw yourself at those two freaks in front of everybody we know!”

“Are you...are you saying I embarrassed you? I embarrassed you? Ty, you hooked up with the biggest gossip in the group, at a party, with the door not even closed! But I embarrassed you? In front of who? Pest? Freaking Mick Davies? You're embarrassed that I got a ride home from some nice people?”

“You didn't just get a ride,” Brady snapped. “You didn't come home last night!”

He stared in disbelief. “I'm not defending myself to you! I've done that for two years of my life. And you're more worried about what you look like in front of a few of your friends than what you look like to me.”

“What do I look like to you?”

“Like someone I never should have given my heart to in the first place.” He was breathing too shallowly, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded, as his world was spinning out of control. “Ty, stop. Please. Can we calm down a minute? Try to talk like adults? Please. I've loved you too long for it to end like this.”

“You ungrateful bitch. You can beg all you like, but I'm not taking you back, not now!”

Sam's eyebrows shot up, and then he let his eyes narrow. The calm and strength he had sought before hit him like ice now, and he stiffened. “Beg you?” he growled dangerously.

Brady took an involuntary step backward. “Sam-”

He filled the distance between them again, and Brady was forced to continue backing away. “Beg you,” he said again. “You think I'm begging you? Get out of my apartment.”

“Sam, don't-”

“Get out!” he roared. “Or so help me, Dean won't be the only felon in the family!”

“You're a psycho bitch, Sam Winchester. You need help! You're a freaking psychopath.”

The door slammed behind him, and Sam nodded a little. “That's an interesting theory,” he murmured into the silence.

The tears he thought would flow ceaselessly never even materialized at all. But he was exhausted beyond belief, and he simply lay on the bed he had shared with Brady too many times, and closed his eyes. As a wicked afterthought, he uncurled and stretched his length over the whole bed, tossed Brady's pillow across the room, and smiled to himself. Darkness took him, and he slept most of the day away.


	4. Jokers to the Right

Casey made sure to run into Sam Winchester at the campus library, and asked him to help her find a vital piece of research for her thesis. She had always enjoyed the way he towered over everyone else, the way he walked, the way she could tell he was powerfully built underneath all those layers.

And if Meg's cat-with-a-canary smirk that morning was anything to go by, the gentle giant wasn't just beauty, brains and brawn. Meg had simply sighed when Casey had demanded details.

She had sighed differently when Casey had asked if she and Castiel were planning to pursue anything further.

“Probably not. He's probably letting Brady slither back in as we speak.”

“Hm. So if a friend of yours made a move…”

Meg laughed. “Bitch, if you think you can pry him out of Tyson Brady's claws, have at it. Cas and I had the night of our lives with this guy. I'd hate to see him go right back to Brady. If you can keep him from that, by all means. But don't get your hopes up. Remember who you're up against.”

Casey smiled devilishly. “I think I've still got a few moves Brady doesn't,” she purred.

“And your cleavage.”

She winked at her friend. “Let's not forget that.”

Now she was close enough to smell him, and she had to have him. Meg was not easily impressed. If this guy had given her and Castiel the night of their lives, Casey wanted in.

“You seem tired, Sam,” she said softly.

He looked up from the shelves. “I am a little.” He cleared his throat. “How, um, how did you know my name?”

She gave her prettiest pout. “Oh, Sam. You don't remember me? I was in your Tort class in the fall.”

It was delicious the way he was blushing. “No, I-I remember you,” he corrected. “You're the one who said my Kansan accent made my Latin sound…” He sighed. “You said you're pretty certain the Latin in my final argument was actually me ordering a pizza.”

Casey laughed. “I minored in Latin in undergrad, Sam. Don't hold that against me.”

The man was a gorgeous pink by now. “I'm sure I could never hold anything against you,” he stammered.

A slow smile came over her as she let that statement hang between them.

Sam's eyes widened in horror. “I mean-I didn't mean-”

“I think I'd like to have you hold something against me,” she cooed, and took a step to back Sam into the wall.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm coming on to you, Sam.”

He was staring at her, with both hands bracing himself on the wall behind him. “But why?”

Her laughter was a little loud for the library, but no one was nearby to complain. “Because you're hot, and you come highly recommended.” She put her hand on his chest and grinned up at him.

“I just...I'm getting out of a long term relationship, and-”

Casey shushed him. “Honey, I'm not a long term girl. There's no relationship here. I'm more of a now or never sort.”

Sam stared another moment, then seemed to shrug a little awkwardly.

And that was how, on the evening after he had experienced his first threesome the night before, after he had stood up for himself and dumped his boyfriend of two years that morning, Sam Winchester found himself in the basement archives, with Casey Damon’s legs wrapped around his waist, her red dress hitched up to her beautiful breasts, on the cabinet marked “Damaged Maps.”

Because now or never was starting to seem like a possibility for the first time in his life.

***

Dean tripped over the dog as he hopped out of bed to grab his phone. That was Stealers Wheel blaring, and that meant it was Sam. Dean always chose a song that related to clowns as Sam's ringtone. It was the small stuff that made Dean happy.

The Colonel grumbled at him, but made no move to get up or out of the way.

“Sammy?” he cried breathlessly when he finally reached the phone.

There was a pause on the other end. “Are you running or fighting?”

“What?” he huffed.

“You're out of breath.”

“I-I tripped on the damn dog-It doesn't matter. What's wrong?”

Sam's voice was quiet. “I woke you.”

Dean scraped his short nails through his hair, and squinted at the clock. “It's two in the morning, dude.”

“Are you sure you're not asleep?”

Green eyes rolled heavenward, and he smirked. “I'm awake, Sam. What's wrong?”

“I'm outside.”

Dean had sat on his bed again, but now he popped back up and hurried out of the bedroom toward the door. “Outside where? Outside here?” He was going to prison again. He knew it. Brady was going to die, and Dean was going to prison. Would they throw away the key if he ripped a med student’s lungs out?

“Yeah, is that-”

He threw open the front door to find his ginormous kid brother standing on the porch with his free hand shoved in his pocket, and his hair wet from the rain.

“-okay?” Sam finished with a sigh, and hung up his phone.

“Get in here. What the hell is wrong with you? You have a key!”

Sam's shoulders rounded as he moved past Dean to step inside. “I know. But I kind of kicked you out of my place. I didn't think it was right to just barge into yours.”

“There was no kind of about it,” Dean reminded him. “You kicked me out.”

“I know. I'm sorry. Can we...can we talk? Please? I kind of need my brother.” The man burst into sobs unexpectedly. “No kind of about it,” he repeated. “I need my big brother.”

Even as the shock of Sam's tears tore into Dean's heart without mercy, the tightness in his chest which had been there since his fight with Sam finally eased. He was where he belonged, at his brother's side, them against the world, come what may.

Sam let himself be led to the couch, and he tucked a leg under him like he always had as a kid. A shaking hand wiped at his cheeks. “Dean, I'm so sorry.”

He nodded. “It's okay, man. I understood.”

“No. It isn't okay. Not in any imaginable world is it okay. You're family. I know you're only looking out for me. And the worst part is that you were right.”

Dean closed his eyes in a flinch. “I'm sorry, man. I'd give anything to have been wrong. I know this guy...I didn't like him. Like, at all. But you loved him. So I'm sorry it played out this way. Did he admit it?”

Sam snorted bitterly. “Not even a little. I caught him. Flagrante delicto.”

His brother made a face. “Ew.”

Hazel gray eyes rolled. “It's a-It's just a legal term, means in blazing offense, caught red handed. I caught his dick in a Guy's mouth.”

“Ew,” Dean said again. “Wait, Guy guy? Hamilton Guy?”

Sam threw his hands up. “I haven't seen Hamilton! Why have you even seen Hamilton?”

“I didn't. I googled it because a hot girl at Jo’s was into it.”

“Yes, it was the Guy who looks like the dude from Hamilton. Does it matter?”

Dean sobered quickly. “No, of course not. Brady's a snake, Sammy.”

Sam leaned back against the couch in exhaustion. “That's not even all of it.”

“What else?” He watched Sam chew on his lip for a moment, then tried again. “Sammy? What else?”

“Look, so I was a little drunk, and I was upset…”

“Did you hit him?” Dean murmured. The idea of Sam spending time in a cage like he had made his heart pound. His mind was already whirring desperately to find a way he could take the blame himself if Sam had hurt the son of a bitch.

“No. I slept with someone else.”

Dean blinked. That wasn't at all what he had expected to hear. “You...you slept...You? You revenge-banged somebody?”

“No! Not-not exactly!”

“It wasn't Ham-”

“No, it wasn't Hamilton Guy! It doesn't matter! The point is that I had sex with someone, and went home in the morning, and threw Ty out of my apartment.”

“Those all sound like good things to me.”

“I loved him for two damn years!”

Dean shrugged. “And so you don't owe him another second of your time.”

Sam stilled, and lowered his gaze. “And then I screwed a gorgeous girl in the basement of the library I work at.”

This time, Dean was the one staring.

“And I got two voice messages, and a text from other folks I barely know, asking if I'm free, if Ty and I are officially split.”

“For sex?”

“For sex,” he said hoarsely. “One of the messages was from a couple. A lesbian couple that I barely know. Bela and Pamela-”

“What? Sam, what the hell?”

“I don't know!” he cried.

Dean shook his head. “Okay. First? Call the lesbians back. Because that's gold. That's the dream. And second? We need to get you tested. Because Brady is a walking STD, and you are suddenly, as my buddy Gabriel on the block would say, getting more ass than a toilet seat.”

Sam swallowed hard. “I always use condoms. Even Ty and I used-”

“Well, good for you, but so did my buddy Gabe, and he's got a whole litter out there. He gets letters from a different kid in every state.”

“What? What the hell did he do?”

“Traveling con man.”

“Wow.”

“So we're getting you tested.”

His brother nodded numbly. “God, Dean. I caught the guy I thought would be my husband one day fucking another guy's mouth, and twenty-four hours later, I've slept with three people I don't really know.”

“Wait. Three? I only counted…”

Sam's eyes were low. “The first one was actually two. A man and a woman.”

Dean's eyes narrowed. It was the middle of the night after a long day of work, but his mind was starting to clear of fog. “Sam? Would you know a Lincoln Continental if you saw one?”

The large man shrugged and sniffed. “I don't know. Is it like a Cad-”

“No! It's nothing like a Cadillac!”

Sam put his hands up in confusion.

“Oh my god, Sammy! One? You're the son of a mechanic from a family of mechanics. And B? What the hell, man? You slept with freaking Cas Finis? The pothead artist who drives the Pimpmobile?”

This time when he shrugged, it was with that wide-eyed, lifted eyebrow look that reminded Dean of every time Sam had gotten caught trying to be bad as a kid. It was exasperating and adorable, and it was a complete confession at the same time as a plea of complete innocence. And Dean loved him for it.

He scowled. “Cas and Meg? God, Sam!”

New tears were forming, and Sam sighed shakily. “The worst of it? Really, the worst of all of it? It wasn't just the sex. Being with the two of them for a few hours, I felt safer and more at home, more myself, than I think I've ever felt with Brady, or-or even with...with Jess.”

Dean lifted his chin to watch the emotions flash in his brother's eyes.

“I don't know. It doesn't make any sense, and it's stupid to say that about a hookup with a couple. But it's true. It's what gave me the strength to throw Ty out. Because for a few hours, I felt safe and loved and wanted, and a part of something real, and it was suddenly so obvious that Ty had never made me feel that way. I want what Cas has. I want what Meg has. I want what they are. Even when I was with Casey earlier, I couldn't help thinking...She's great, and beautiful, and it was fun, but I'd rather be with them. Isn't that stupid? I'd rather just hang out with them, just be in the same space as them, than with a guy I loved, or a woman who is so hot she shouldn't know my name.”

It was a reach deep into his big brother bag, a deep, deep reach, but Dean finally sighed. “Then call them back, dude. I know Cas. I know he's a good guy. He's got a good partner. And...and I bet they want you to call them back. I...I know they do. Because Cas was just telling me tonight that he and Meg had found a guy who fit with them perfectly, and they were both sorry that he was probably going back to his snake boyfriend.”

Fear sparkled in Sam's eyes. “You and Cas are friends? He said that? About me?”

“He asked me if I ever knew a guy who I could tell right away was special. Was truly good. And I said yeah. I know a guy like that. I guess we were talking about the same guy.”

“They've been talking about me. That's what Casey meant when she said…” A flush of pleasure bloomed high on Sam's cheeks. “She said I had come highly recommended.”

“Ew.”

“And I bet Casey hangs out with Gil, the religious law guy, who probably knows Lilith, who I know knows Bela...Which explains the messages.” Sam looked up suddenly. “Wait. You really think I should call them? Like, big brother stamp of approval? Because I'm not just looking for another hookup. You get that, right?”

“I get that,” he confirmed. “Know what I don't get?”

Sam shook his head.

“How the hell do you not know a Lincoln Continental from a Cadillac?” He received the best of all Sammy bitchfaces, and laughed. “Dude, I get it, okay? You're bisexual. You might as well be tri-sexual. Doesn't make much difference to me. Just get tested, make them get tested, and don't get your heart walked on. Okay? I'm not asking too much here.”

At last, Sam began to smile. “Thanks, man. You've always had my back. Thank you.”

“Crash on the couch. I'll cook you breakfast in the morning, and then we're getting a lesson in car identification.”

Sam smacked him in the arm, but laughed with him this time.


	5. Here I Am

Castiel was smiling down at his phone when Meg walked into the house by the kitchen door. She let her fingers brush his shoulders on her way to put her bag on its hook. When she returned, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Thinking of ordering a pizza and moving some furniture. You in?”

He looked up at last. The blue eyes were shining happily, and she didn't know why but she liked it. “Always in,” he murmured, and she felt her chest tighten as if Castiel's adoring warmth were squeezing her heart. “And you look amazing in those scrubs. Look at you. My caregiver. Full of thorny beauty. My rose.”

Castiel was the only one who had ever been able to make Meg's stomach do funny things like this. It still surprised her sometimes how much she loved him. “I've told you before,” she teased. “I don't like poetry. Either put up or shut up.”

He simply smiled at her. “In any case, no pizza tonight. But if we play our cards right, there could be some Pizza Man.”

“You still high?”

“Generally,” he shrugged. “But no. Just happy.”

“And that's suspicious. What’d you do, Finis?”

The blue gaze sparkled at her. “He called.”

Meg's eyes widened. “He? He who? Not Sam.”

But that pleased sigh could only mean Sam. “He wants us to meet him tonight.”

“He wants to hook up again?” She didn't mean to sound disappointed. Hell, if Sam was up for another round, she wasn't going to say no to that. But it would just make it harder when he finally said no to them.

“We’re going to a pub for some drinks.”

She nodded, and lowered her eyes.

Castiel moved like a dancer sometimes. Even after all her years studying fencing and martial arts, she was still envious of his natural grace some days. He scooped her into his strong arms, and she let him hold her. “No, my rose. It's trivia night. He wants a date.”

She blinked at him. “A what?”

He laughed. “Sam wants to-quote-get to know us better.”

Meg listened to her lover replay the phone conversation, and she felt a tingle of excitement building. “He understood. Do you think he understood? What we are, what we’re looking for?”

Castiel shrugged. “I guess we'll find out.”

She smirked at him. “I'll go shower and put on my black and red corset. I knew I stole it from Ruby for some special occasion.”

He pecked her on the lips. “You've always looked better in everything you've ever stolen from your sister than she did.”

“Damn right.”

***

“Why am I even here?” Dean wondered aloud for the third time.

Sam glowered at him. “In case we get a question about cars, football or the penal system. Shut up.”

His brother sat back with a sigh. “I don't remember you talking me into being a fourth wheel.”

“A fourth wheel adds stability. And I talked you into it last night before you passed out on the couch and I stole your bed.” Sam continued scanning the room for familiar faces, even though he knew he would see them when they arrived.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“You gotta stop using sleep deprivation against me, making me agree to crap just so you'll shut up and I can sleep. I spent two years with a state-mandated bedtime. I can't help passing out-”

“Oh god. There they are.”

Dean whirled and gave a low whistle. “Holy crap. That's Meg? How the hell did Finis ever score that?”

“Same way I will,” Sam murmured. “By listening to her, and being good to her. To them both.”

Dean glanced back at him. “You promised there would be testing.”

“There will be. This isn't about sex, Dean. Not just sex, at least. I got a good feeling after talking to Cas, like this is what they want too. And for the first time in my life, I'm sure about what I want. I just need to be sure they're the ones I want it with.”

“I don't understand any of this, except that, if it's what you want and they're good folks, it's what I want for you.” He said it quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself and not Sam at all.

Sam had been staring at Castiel and Meg approaching, but now he looked back at Dean. How could he have ever thought for a minute that his big brother would lie to him about Brady, would do anything to get in the way of his happiness? “Thanks, man.”

Castiel and Meg emerged from the belly of the small crowd to Sam's table. “Hey, kid,” she said with a confidence Sam wondered if she truly felt.

“Hello, Sam, Dean.”

Just their voices made Sam feel warm. “Hey, guys. I hope you don't mind. We need four or five for a team, so I dragged my big brother.”

Castiel nodded, and looked at Meg, who stepped aside to reveal a small, pretty woman following. “And we thought a fourth might be necessary. So we brought our friend Tessa.”

“Hey,” the woman said, in a soft voice. “I may have to fly away at ten thirty or so. I work graveyard at the hospital. And by fly, I mean call myself a cab, because my car's trying to give up the ghost.”

From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean lean in. “I'd be happy to drop you off, if you're comfortable with that. I gotta drive right past the hospital to get home. And you can tell me what your car’s doing. Maybe I can help.”

Tessa laughed brightly. “You know something about cars?”

“Dean is the reason my Lincoln is still operational.”

Meg snorted. “Which means we don't like Dean very much,” she teased, winking at Sam, who laughed.

Castiel turned to glare at her. “Which means we love Dean. He's practically family.”

Dean gave him a snicker, then turned back to Tessa. “Anyway, I used to be a night owl, but these days, I can't hang with the wild and crazy kids. So I'll be ready to leave around then too. I'll finish this beer, and switch to Coke.”

The woman's face was mostly unreadable, but Sam thought he saw a hint of curiosity. “That's nice of you” was all she said.

Sam smiled as everyone found chairs around their table. He looked at each in turn.

To his left was Dean. His whole life, Dean had been to his left. It was where he belonged. Sam could forgive a lot of things, but he would never forgive Brady for straining his relationship with his big brother. Dean had been trying with all his heart to make up for his mistakes. Sam realized that now. And childhood hadn't been easy for Dean. There was a lot of latent anger there behind green eyes. Dean had always taken care of Sam first, and had never had anyone help him through his own issues. Sam had been hard on him for years. It was time to forgive Dean's mistakes and be there for him the way he was always there for Sam. Beside Dean was Tessa, and Sam kind of liked the way she was smiling at his big brother. Dean’s life could use a little of that soft, quiet intelligence and humor that Tessa clearly commanded.

Next to Tessa sat Meg, whose eyes seemed to catch everything at once. She was watching him, and it made his face warm instantly. He had flashes of memory from their night together, lovely dark and pale glimpses of skin and eyes, and red, red lips always grinning. Sam felt himself chewing on his lip, and had to look away. He could feel the smirk follow him.

Castiel was looking up at the board above the bar, which gave the rules of trivia night. He was nodding to himself, and when he realized Sam was watching him, he turned to him with a look of satisfaction. “I think we will be successful,” he announced. “With this team, I know we will.”

Maybe it was the emotional upheaval over the past two days, or maybe it was guidance from an angel of mercy, but Sam's heart crashed headlong into love, with Castiel, with Meg, with his brother's insistence that he was worth fighting for, with his own stubborn belief that love was worth fighting for. No matter how many times he had fallen, he would always be willing to try again to fly.

“I think we will be successful,” he repeated so softly no one else heard. Sam had always wanted to be part of something. This team was it. It was what he'd been waiting for.


	6. Stuck in the Middle With You

The questions were displayed on the screen above the bar, and each table had a tablet to record their answers. Tessa was deemed the team’s best choice for spelling correctly under pressure. The first task was the most difficult one.

“We need a team name,” she stated dryly.

The debate which followed told Sam more about the other four than anything else so far. He found himself laughing easily, felt tension wash away while listening. After much giggling, they decided. Team four became “The Absinthe-Minded Professors.”

They ordered hot wings and zucchini fries, onion rings and chips with salsa, and everyone but Dean shared pitchers of beer. Sam was proud of his brother. He was always a little worried that Dean would become the alcoholic their father was. But the man had been careful since his release, and tonight he was keeping his promise to switch to soda to be able to drive Tessa to work later. All bets were off regarding the hot wings, on the other hand, and, between him and Meg, they needed another large plate of them before the first round had even begun.

Their first five questions were perfect. It was as though the trivia was chosen specifically for their team. Meg and Dean pounced on a question about a hospital drama called Dr. Sexy, MD, which Sam and Tessa had never heard of, and which made Castiel roll his eyes. Listening to the two of them argue about the episode title of a prime time soap opera made Sam laugh. Then Dean took another question which made him scoff, about the type of car Michael Knight had driven in Knight Rider. (“It's a custom ‘82 Trans-Am. Clearly. Who doesn't know that? Or do they mean the Knight Industries Three Thousand from the 2008 version? Because that's a Ford Shelby GT500KR, 2008ish. The 4000 was a ‘91 Stealth that they suited up to look like a Banshee concept. But I'm sure they mean the original Pontiac. Right?”)

Then Tessa revealed her love for all things macabre and ghoulish by confidently stating that the electric chair was conceived by a dentist in the late 1800s. “What? I'm a mortician. Death and dead things fascinate me.”

“And weirdly, that fascinates me,” Dean remarked, inciting laughs of delight from Tessa’s friends.

A few moments later, they were stumped. “What covers the walls of the vault of Galla Placidia, and a bonus point for the design of the floor plan? I don't have any idea what…” Tessa’s voice faded off. “Is this about a tomb?”

“You think everything is about a tomb,” Meg complained.

Dean shrugged. “Isn't placid that movie about the alligator or something?”

His brother shook his head. “Floor plan. What kinds of designs do floor plans even come in? Wall coverings. Like wallpaper?”

“Maybe it was a crocodile.”

“Some tombs have skulls on the walls. There's one in the Azores-”

“It's not always a tomb!” Meg cried.

“It's a mausoleum.”

Everyone turned to Castiel in surprise.

Tessa snapped her fingers. “Told you it was a tomb.”

“She isn't buried there.”

“Who? The crocodile?”

Meg dropped her forehead into her hand.

Castiel spoke quietly but with a tiny smile, and a voice that carried easily due to its depth and not its volume. Sam liked that. “Galla Placidia. Her mausoleum is covered in intricate mosaic, and it's cruciform.”

Tessa began typing in their answers, as Meg snorted. “Cruciform, like the metal band?”

“No one knows that band but you, Meg.”

She glared at Tessa.

Sam was beaming at Castiel. “No, cruciform, in the shape of a cross.”

“In Ravenna, Italy. One of the most artistically intriguing mosaic pieces in the world, and extremely old.”

Before he realized what he was doing, Sam's hand took hold of one of the artist's. “I'd like you to teach me about it one day.”

Meg's dark eyes slid to watch them with a smile. “Be careful what you ask for, kid. He can lecture for hours.”

Castiel lifted his gaze from Sam's large hand. “I'm an art history professor. If I couldn't, I'd be entirely useless.”

Dean leaned back in his chair. “You told me you were a painter.”

“I am. And a professor at the community college. And I own a gallery.”

“Or three,” Meg muttered.

Sam blinked. “You own three art galleries?”

“I own a gallery, and I am one of two owners of two others.”

“And a supply shop and studio.”

He raised an eyebrow at Meg. “Are you done?”

“And he has his own nonprofit organization to expose kids from poor families to fine arts. Which is why I call him angel. And he grows his own weed, also nonprofit. Yeah, I'm done.”

The questions moved on, and Sam was pleased to provide the answer to one requiring his Latin. But he spent his time watching the others interact. Meg and Castiel had such an easy understanding between them. It was fun just sitting back and observing the little glances and barely-there touches. The way they communicated without words just emphasized again and again to Sam how much was missing between him and Brady.

It was after they had taken second place in their first trivia night as a team, after Dean had hurried off with Tessa, when Sam was still buzzed and very sleepy, that the emotions suddenly overwhelmed him.

He had stepped out of the pub for fresh air, and as soon as it hit him, he felt his eyes burning. He leaned on the wall heavily. His sob poured out even as he tried to gasp it back in.

It didn't surprise him at all when two arms slipped around his waist. “It's all right, kid,” Meg murmured. “We got you. Life sucks, but it's a little easier when we all hold hands and walk across the street together.”

He laughed at her tone. It was both kind and comforting, and jaded and sarcastic, all at the same time.

“You're not alone, Sam. We want you to know that. No matter how lonely you've been in the past, you are not alone.”

He sat on the concrete stairs hard. Castiel floated down next to him, his pale coat like wings in the moonlight. Meg stood two steps below them, and leaned on the rail. At that height, she was at eye level with them. It was fascinating to Sam how the three of them seemed to move together, to fit together, in spite of the very short time they had been friends.

“Are you all right?” Castiel murmured close to his ear.

The voice made Sam warm from the inside out. “I'm fine.”

“You're not fine,” Castiel said, and it occurred to Sam that he had corrected that at least three times now.

Sam's own voice hitched badly when he tried to speak. “I have to be.”

“Not for us,” Meg responded. “If you're not fine, don't try to be. Let us all be who we are. I'm a caretaker, Sam. And sometimes I need taking care of too. Cas helped me learn that years ago. And he's the same way. He's a lot more comfortable watching over someone else than admitting he needs someone watching over him too. You're strong enough to be fine your whole life, Sam. Or you could open up to us and be happy instead. You don't have to be fine. But you can be happy, and that's what we're offering.”

He lifted his gaze to stare at her. “Why?” he forced out. Tears slid down his cheeks freely. “Why are you...You two are so complete. You two have what I've never even known was out there. I've seen good couples. I've been in good relationships. But it isn't like what you two have! You're complete! Why would you let someone in to screw up your perfect balance?” He shook his head sadly. “I've gone through it in my head for hours, and I just don't see any way that I can be a part of this without messing it up. And...and I'm sorry, but I just can't do the casual hookup. I'm too-too much of a mess right now.”

“Did the hookup seem casual?”

Sam turned to him now. “No,” he confessed. “No, it seemed amazing. Like I was part of something true for the first time ever. Stupid, right? But that's how it felt. I kept thinking it over and over, that this was truth. But it's an illusion. It's me looking in and seeing something real, and feeling for a minute like I'm part of it. I'm not, and I can't be. But it feels right, and I can't even explain why.”

Meg sighed.

“Sam,” Castiel said quietly, “what is it that you want? Honestly?”

He blinked through the steady stream of tears. “I want what you have. I want what you two are to each other. And the more I see it, the more everything else I've ever had isn't enough anymore. Maybe if Jess...But even then...I just want something real. You two are true companions. Polar opposites in a lot of ways, and complete complements in others.”

“And what is it you're worried about?” he pressed.

Sam huffed out a humorless chuckle. “That I'll ruin it if I try to be a part of it. Dean said you talked about polyamory. I had to look it up. And I still don't understand it, but it looks beautiful, and I know...I know it would be something incredible, something sacred with you two.”

They shared a soft smile between them.

“But I'm the worst choice.”

Meg's smile slipped into a flinch. “So wait. You know what we're talking about. You looked into it, and you like the idea of it, particularly with us. But you don't want in.”

His heart ached so badly, he was having trouble taking a full breath. “I want in,” he said hoarsely. “More than anything, I want in. But, God, I don't know why you would ever think I could contribute anything to what you have! I wasn't even good enough for Brady!” He felt himself slump, felt Castiel catch him in an embrace. Meg's hand was on his knee, adding her strength somehow. “I'm not enough for Brady. He had to go out looking for someone else. I loved him the best I could for over two years. And the best of me wasn't good enough. Why would you want me? I'll mess up what you have, and it's so perfect, and I'll hate myself. God, I hate myself.”

“Meg? He's so beautiful,” Castiel sighed.

She sighed. “Kid, let’s get something straight. You are far too good for Brady. And it's everything I can do to not go kick his ass for hurting you. I've seen you at a few of the parties, and every single time, Cas, what do I say?”

“That guy has amazing arms.”

“Right.” She stopped and rolled her eyes. “No, the other thing?”

Castiel laughed. “She calls you Brady's Lost Soul.”

Sam's eyebrows shot up. “His what?”

Meg reached out to comb her fingers through his hair. “Because he clearly made a deal with the devil to hook you. And because you were so obviously doomed to get your heart broken. But it's Brady. You can't tell anybody about Brady. He's something you have to experience to believe. I've seen what he does to guys. It makes me sick the way he operates like he's God’s gift, and in reality, he's just a snake. And you poor lost soul, he finally hurt you, and I'd like to kill him for it, but Cas won't let me.”

“I won't let her.”

Sam shook his head. “Brady's a bastard. I get that now. I had my eyes opened. But that doesn't make me any less worthless to you. I'm a law student, working at a university library, studying environmental science and the law regarding it. And that's all I am. You two are the two most interesting people I've ever met. You're incredibly sexy. You're nice, you're smart, you're funny. Why would you ever want to throw a guy like me into the mix? Look at me. I'll just break it!”

“Sam, I didn't used to smoke weed.”

It seemed so random that he turned to Castiel in surprise.

Meg put her other hand on her lover's shoulder.

“I was addicted to painkillers for a long time. Since I was fifteen. I smoke instead now, and I'm cutting back on that too. People call marijuana a gateway drug, and for me and about a hundred thousand heroin addicts, that's exactly what it is. A gateway back to sobriety. Because if I go too long without it, my hands start to hurt, and I'll start to think maybe I'd do better with something stronger, in pill form.”

She sighed heavily.

It hurt Sam's heart to hear Castiel talk this way. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because of why my hands hurt when I've been painting too long.”

“Why?”

Meg's eyes flashed with cool rage. “Because his bitch aunt who had custody of him broke his hands when she shoved him down a staircase, and he tried to brace himself when he hit the ground. Snapped both wrists and broke a bunch of metacarpals.”

Sam stared. “That's horrible!”

“Naomi told me I came off the line with a crack in my chassis, that I never did anything right, and I was the proverbial spanner in the works. So if you think throwing you into the mix will somehow make the two of us less happy, you don't realize what we are.”

“What are you?” he breathed.

“Some kind of freaks,” Meg supplied softly. “We aren't perfect, Sam. And we knew a long time ago that we need a third to balance us. There are times Cas runs too cold, and I'm running too hot.”

“Soon as we met you, Sam, when we touched, it was right. I got up in the morning and painted for hours while you two slept, and I felt sharper than I've felt in a very long time. The pain couldn't reach me. I was too inspired to let it stop me.”

Meg laughed. “See, kid? You help mellow my jagged metal edges, and you give his mellow a little edge. It's exactly what we want.”

Sam swallowed hard, and leaned on Castiel. “You don't know me,” he murmured.

“We can feel you. Just like we can feel one another. You said yourself, it feels right. Like truth. If you decide you can't, we get it.”

Meg looked into his eyes. “But please try.”

“We’re a little bit broken too, Sam. Don't say no because of that.”

“What…” He took a deep breath, and cried it out. “What would it be like?”

The two of them broke into relieved smiles. “Come over tonight, and we’ll talk about it.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I...I promised my brother I'd talk about testing. Getting-getting tested, I mean.”

Meg smirked. “Cas? I like him.”

“So do I.”


	7. Jigsaw

It was two o’clock in the morning, and Castiel was passed out in the large bed between them. His dark head lay on Meg's lap, and his face was glowing with contentment.

There were five of them.

Sam giggled sleepily as he watched Meg's nails comb through dark hair absently. “It's like he's the third cat,” he whispered.

Meg smiled down at her lover. “He is,” she confirmed. “Michael, Lucifer and Castiel. All angels, you know.”

“Lucifer is the devil.”

“Yeah. But he was an angel first. Not a very good one, from what I hear. It's probably more fun being demonic.”

Sam smirked at her. “Meg the demon and Castiel the angel. Where does that leave me?”

She leaned just far enough to place a kiss on his nose. “Somewhere between heaven and hell.”

“So...a human.”

“Maybe. A damn good one. I'll have Cas paint the story one day.”

“Am I doomed to be the boring one in this relationship?” he teased.

She laughed. “I don't think you're boring. I think you're a dark hero. Ooh. Maybe you're part demon, part angel!”

“And all boring. No, I think I'd rather be a human. I can pull you up, and pull him down, and we'll make a great heroic team.”

“He'd be a badass avenging angel. Not the perch on your shoulder kind.”

Sam touched the man's chest. “And you'd be a badass warrior demon, not the red cartoon kind.”

“And you'd be the badass guardian of humanity. Maybe your brother can be your funny animal sidekick.”

“I think he'll want to bring Tessa along too.”

Meg snorted. “She'd be the grim reaper or something. Maybe a vulture.”

They shared a quiet snicker, and fell into peaceful silence.

The three of them, and the two cats, lay piled onto the bed with only four articles of clothing among them. Meg wore a tank top and panties, Castiel was lounging in white boxers, and Sam wore the running pants he had picked out of his gym bag in the trunk of his car. There had been many comments about the state of his arms throughout the evening, leaving him a blushing mess every time. For his part, he had been entirely unable to keep his eyes off Meg's strong legs or Castiel's powerful back muscles. Meg had winked at him every time she caught him staring at one of the two, and Castiel seemed not to notice at all.

True to their agreement, there was no sex that night of the trivia game, nor through the rest of the week. They had gotten their test results, and had compared notes to everyone's satisfaction. Even then, Sam insisted that he wanted things to slow down to a crawl instead of continue at a sprint. His heart needed time to adjust to the whiplash it was experiencing. His first threesome, followed by his first random hookup inside a library, all within just hours of losing a relationship he had worked hard for, was too much for his brain, let alone his shellshocked heart.

So instead, Sam spent his mornings in class, his afternoons at the library, working, studying and writing papers. In the evenings, he had begun curling up on the couch while Castiel watched television and Meg read her magazines, and he studied until he fell asleep. It had happened three nights in a row now. He felt so at home, so comfortable and so wanted. Meg and Castiel seemed perfectly content to let him simply be a part of their space. Sam had never felt so safe in his life.

Tonight, he had come over later than before. Brady had come to the apartment for his things, and Sam had gone to Dean's place until Brady had texted to say he was gone. Sam had returned to find the apartment completely free of any trace of his relationship with Tyson Brady. That was when he realized there wasn't much trace of himself there either.

Sam had never owned much stuff. But now that Brady's things were gone, he realized that nothing was in the apartment that was his except for some clothing and books and his laptop. That apartment had never become Sam's space. There was nothing of Sam there at all. Brady's personality had completely taken over this place. Without him, it was cold and sterile.

The moment he stepped into Castiel and Meg's house, however, he was struck immediately by how much they had accommodated him in their home. Sam had mentioned enjoying hot tea when he was sad. Meg had found a beautiful Asian teapot and cups, and Castiel had painted a wooden tray for them. They had given it to him together yesterday. His pillow was already propped in his space on the couch, and the end table had been moved for him to set his books on. These were little things which meant the world to Sam. They were sneaking him into their lives, subtly so as not to spook the young man, but it showed him they truly wanted him.

Tonight, he had gathered his courage, and set aside his studying. They had talked for hours, eventually migrating from the living room to the bedroom. Sam felt exhausted and giddy with the adventure of getting to know one another. Like children, they had taken turns, each asking a question of the other two, never settling on any pressing issue, but instead exploring philosophies and spirituality and the universe. Sam loved the way the two of them disagreed about nearly everything, and yet never minded a bit. The respect and trust between them was sacred. And little by little, it included Sam as well.

Castiel had drifted off by one, and the cats had appeared from nowhere to press into his comfort. Michael was plastered upon his chest, and Lucifer slept with his chin resting on Castiel's foot.

“I always wanted a dog,” Sam admitted. “But he's beginning to change my mind.”

Meg smiled up at him. “These cats could handle a dog. If you need one.”

He looked up and stared at her. “You two are amazing, you know that? No. I love cats too. And I'd hate to leave a dog alone all day. When I need my fix, I'll visit Dean's shepherd, the Colonel. He sometimes goes to the garage with Dean just to hang out. That's where Dean found him in the first place. So I won't go without. But...but maybe…”

Meg watched him. “Another cat?” she guessed.

Sam shrugged with a warmth creeping up his bare throat. “Maybe. Lucifer is yours. Michael is Castiel's.”

“Sam, any cat who can take a chance and join our little family deserves to be here.”

He beamed at her happily. “I'm sure he would feel at home here.”

“Hope so.”

“Meg? Why doesn't Cas ever tell anyone anything he does?”

“You mean his galleries and classes?”

“And a nonprofit?”

She smiled down at her angel. “He's worked really hard for years. Most people wouldn't know that. They think he's just a stoner who paints occasionally. But he's a creative genius, and he barely sleeps. His aunt kicked him out the minute he was eighteen. Happy birthday, Cas, pack a bag and go. Literally, a bag. She told him to take whatever would fit in his backpack, and not to come home.”

“What a bitch!”

“She had issues,” Meg agreed. “So Cas packed his father's suit, which Naomi had never gotten rid of, and his father's gold watch, put on his father's old trench coat, and went door to door at every shop in the city till someone hired him, then every hotel until someone hired him for night shift. So he worked in an art supply shop and studio, which he now owns, during the day, slept at the hotel for a few hours in the evening, then worked till morning. And all that time, he was weaning himself from painkillers, and painting at every opportunity. As soon as he had the money, he added classes to the mix. He was finishing his degree, working nights and living at the hotel, and managing the studio, and doing fairly well, considering. And then he broke his hand again.”

Sam flinched. He felt as though he had been slapped. “What? But…”

Meg sighed. “And that's how life goes, right? Cas would say that it was lucky that he was in a good position before that happened. I say it's a shitty universe that would do that to a good man, an artist, twice.”

“That's terrible!”

Castiel stirred quietly, and gave a sigh. “I was just trying to get the attention of the registered nurse on call.”

Meg smiled down at him with affection and amusement. “Lucky for you, that was me that night.”

He shrugged and curled into her like a cat. “I always wanted to impress a hot nurse with my flexibility. Or breakability. Whatever.”

Sam reached down to run his fingers along Castiel's wrist and hand. It was a beautiful hand. He hadn't noticed that. Strong and capable. “I'd have fallen in love with these hands too,” he murmured to Meg.

“I found out he'd been living in a hotel room for four years, so I moved him into my place. Just till he healed up.”

At last, the blue eyes opened, and they stared at Meg with complete adoration. “I never did. My caretaker, my thorny beauty, she broke me in ways I didn't want to recover from.”

“Shut up,” she laughed.

Castiel chuckled sleepily, and closed his eyes again. He interlocked his fingers with Sam's. “I had surgery on my left hand, and they prescribed painkillers, so Meg baked me brownies to take the edge off instead. Nicest thing anyone ever did for me.”

“I let you live in my house.”

“Sneaking me pot brownies after my surgery trumps everything.”

She smirked up at Sam. “He fell asleep, and when he woke up, first words out of his mouth? Let's all get washed up for the orgy. You're all so beautiful.” She shook her head. “I was the only one in the room.”

“And you're all so beautiful,” he murmured again. He was asleep again before another word was spoken.

Sam lowered his voice. “Ty called me today, left a message. It was like I was listening to a stranger. He started blathering about how he's ready to forgive me. And I just wanted to throw up. So I called him back and said he better clean his stuff out of my apartment before I donate it all. You and Cas...You're what love is supposed to be. I don't know how many times Brady referred to me as his partner, but we were never on equal footing. I feel like I'm seeing our relationship from a whole new angle, and it makes me sick to think that him ripping my heart out is how I met you two. I hate that he has anything to do with...with us.”

Meg touched his face, then let her hand drop back down. “It makes me and Cas happy every time you say that word. Us.”

Sam felt himself growing warm again. “Me too.”

“Sam, I know you're hurt. Brady took advantage of your good heart. I've seen inside your head, all your little anxious thoughts and feelings,” she teased gently. “And I get it. But for what it's worth, Cas and I don't think of it as Brady bringing us together. It was you needing someone, and us being there. That's all. I've learned one thing in this world, Sam. Just one, pretty much. Find a cause, and serve it. With your whole heart, serve it. Cas makes me a better person. And I help him be a little bad sometimes, which is all manner of hot. Without me? He'd still be working eighteen hours a day, trying not to take pills to sleep the other six. Cas only had two settings when I met him. Feeling worthless or feeling high. Both helped his art career, I guess, but I like his more recent work. It's joyful. He's himself when he's with me. And you can be Sam with us.”

He felt a tear slip down his cheek, and hurried to swipe at it.

Like a flash, Meg's hand whipped up and caught his wrist, without jostling Castiel at all.

He stared at her.

“Sam? You don't have to be fine with us. Just be Sam. Sam is what we want. Do what you've got to do to survive your day, because no matter what the pothead artist says, life sucks. But when you're with us, just be Sam. Because, kid, we’re both completely in love with you.” The hand released his wrist, and tucked his hair behind his ear.

They were each a little bit broken, but their torn edges matched one another's perfectly. The world had ripped them into pieces that fit together like a puzzle. At last, he understood how this would work.

Sam took what he felt was his first deep breath since he was a child, and this time when the tears came, he let them come freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> ~Posing


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